"Do not touch that!"
The new agent's hands flew into the air at Deeks' frantic yell. "It's just some old box that's been sitting here for ages, I was going to toss it."
"No, it's mine, leave it," Deeks mumbled, his hand scratching at the nape of his neck, embarrassment ringing through him from his earlier yell.
"Oh, it's important to you?"
"I don't know, maybe."
"What's in it?" The agent (Matthew? Mike? He could never remember their names) asked.
"Um, I don't know…" Deeks twisted to where Kensi was walking in, a paper tray of coffee balenced precariously in her hand, a bag from a pastry shop in the other. "Why don't you ask her."
"Huh?" She glanced up, powdered sugar smudged across her lips. "What's that?"
"He-he."
"Michael." The agent offered weakly.
"Michael has a question for you, Kens."
"Oh!" She straightened, plopping the bag and tray on her desk with a smug smile. "What about? Your training? Some new weapon or fighting style?"
"No, uh." Michael's hand lifted and he pointed vaguely towards the filing cabinet housing the box. "What's in the box."
Kensi's face contorted and she glared at her smirking partner/boyfriend. "Why didn't you ask him? It's his box."
"He said to ask you."
"Of course he did." Kensi shook her head and handed Michael the paper cup with MARTY printed on it in clear letters. "Well you tell him that the answer is waiting for him whenever for he gets the guts to find it."